


Daughter of Mars

by adepressedmeme



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Collars, Control Issues, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Kinky, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adepressedmeme/pseuds/adepressedmeme
Summary: This story takes place before the courier is shot. Caesar discovers he has a daughter, who just so happens to be a beautiful dancer. Raised in the relative safety of NCR territory, she never learned some of the basic survival skills that many in the Mojave have. After the death of her mother and failure to enter the Strip, she turns to the only hope she has. The Legion.
Relationships: Aurelius (Fallout)/Original Character, Lanius (Fallout)/Original Female Character(s), Lucius (Fallout)/Original Female Character(s), Vulpes Inculta/Original Character(s), Vulpes Inculta/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. The Will of Caesar

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer* I’m not a dancer, just someone who has watched a few too many dance shows. Please let me know if my terminology is off or just doesn’t paint a good picture

The dry hot Mojave air cut across my skin as I trudged forward on unsteady legs. I was dehydrated, hungry, and scared out of my mind. My dry tongue darted over chapped lips, desperately trying to soothe their discomfort. Ahead of me lay Cottonwood Cove, the last place any woman should willingly walk to. I was a lamb, walking into the den of lions. 

“Halt!” A baritone voice called out, “What business have you here, outsider?” A man in the crimson uniform of a legionnaire appeared. Funny, I didn’t see him there a moment ago. 

“I have come seeking an audience with your Caesar,” I replied. 

“You? A profligate woman?” He sneered at me. 

My heart beat way too fast, “I am his daughter. He doesn’t know of my existence and I wish to change that.” 

“Lies,” he pulled out his machete, “The Caesar has no offspring!” 

“I have proof! But he has to be the one to hear it to understand,” I replied, my tone a little more desperate than intended. 

“I doubt that,” he steps closer to me and grips my cheek enough to nearly bruise, “You are quite attractive though. Would look beautiful with a collar.” 

My heart hits my stomach, “Please. At least tell Caesar of me so that he may make the decision.” 

“What’s this?” Another soldier steps forward, this one wearing a headdress. 

“Ave decanus,” the first one releases me, “This woman is claiming to be Caesar’s daughter. One he doesn’t know about.” 

“Does she have proof?” He questions. 

“She claims only Caesar will know it as such,” the other answers. 

“Hm. It is strange for a woman to knowingly walk into the Cove. Perhaps there is truth to her statement. Bring her into the holding pen and I will see what Caesar wishes,” the man turned on his heel and led the way to the Cove. 

I didn’t struggle with my rope bindings, even though they scratched hard at my soft skin. I had the luxuries of proper skincare back in California, so my skin is healthy and unblemished. It was not faring well in this unforgiving sun. 

I looked around at the slaves I was sharing a space with. Their eyes were deadened. Lifeless. They had long lost their spark or any hope of rescue. I had heard stories of the Legion taking slaves that I hoped were just NCR propaganda, but it appears it was a truth. I swallowed my nonexistent spit hard, my hands trembling slightly. 

It was several hours later when the same decanus came for me. I had dried out under the sun, my head hurting from dehydration. He had with a well decorated legionary, perhaps one to Caesar's guards I heard a tale about. 

“Bind her,” He instructed the decanus, “We will see what Caesar makes of you, woman.” 

“Thank you,” I utter in response, just glad for a chance. 

… 

The trip to the fort was long, but being over the water made me feel a little better. Cool breezes came from the lake. As I was led by the decanus to Caesar’s tent, I could feel the eyes of the soldiers on me. Each one in turn stopped from their work or eating to take a good look. I guess I was a spectacle. The previous man called me beautiful, so I assumed that’s why the others were staring. The idea made me almost lose what little contents were in my stomach. 

“Ave,” the well-dressed man said to another as we made it to the tent. 

The decanus handed over the reins and left. I could see an empty throne centered in the biggest opening of the tent. Guards and their mongrels were stationed at every corner. One man stood out. He was lanky like me, probably only a few inches taller, but wore a dog’s head and sunglasses. 

“This is the one,” my captor spoke to the dog-headed man. 

He nodded and turned on his heel to the back of the tent. Moments later he arrived with another, older man by his side. 

“You are the one claiming to be the daughter of the great Caesar?” The large man asked. 

“I am,” I willed my voice from shaking. 

“I am Lucius. Leader of the praetorian guard,” he replied, “You will show me this proof you have before Caesar decides to humor you with his audience.” 

“Ah. Well, it’s not material,” I shifted on my uncomfortably, “I was told to tell him, ‘The eye of March lay upon you.’ My mother said he would know what it means.” 

“I will relay this message,” Lucius turned and left. 

Several long, silent moments passed before he appeared again. A bald man followed him and took a seat on the throne. He regarded me before speaking. 

“Who told you that phrase?” He asked. 

“My mother. Her name was Cicily. She said you may not remember her face, but you would remember those words,” I answered. 

He stroked his chin in thought, “I do know those words. I remember your mother too. You look just like her. Tell me, where did she run off to?” 

“Into California. We lived under the NCR’s protection since I was born,” I replied. 

“And what did your mother tell you of me?” He questioned. 

“Not much. I didn’t know about you until right before she died. We were traveling together to New Vegas for me to take a job, but she got an infected ant bite and passed away from the fever,” I explained, “I only knew your name and position in the Legion.” 

“A job in New Vegas? Why are you not there and here instead?” Caesar pressed. 

“I-” I swayed in the discomfort of his judging eyes, “I didn’t have enough money to pass through their checkpoint and I wasn’t interested in...whoring myself out to get in.” 

“A respectable decision,” he gestured his hand to me, “So you decided to walk into Legion territory hoping for what? Money? A warm welcome?” 

I shook my head, “Honestly, I’m not sure. I decided to take a chance on coming here, rather than rot in Freeside.” 

“So what would you have me do with you?” He stroked his chin again, “There are no women allowed to serve in my ranks. You don’t look like you’re the manual labor type that would be good for my slave workforce. What can you bring to the table?” 

“It’s true I don’t have many of the survival skills so many in this area have. I never had to learn how to skin a gecko or shoot a gun, but I did study art and music my entire life. I can provide entertainment,” I explained. 

He scrunched his nose in disgust, “I will not have some woman strip for men in my fort. We are not the NCR, falling over themselves at the strip.” 

“No!” I took a step forward and got a strong arm to the chest, “I don’t mean like that. I studied classical music and art. I can perform acrobatics and ballet. I thought since you take so much from the culture of ancient Rome, that you could appreciate fine art.” 

“Can I see a demonstration?” He asked. 

“Of course. I need my hands free though,” I held them up. He nodded to my guard, who promptly cut the rope with a knife. I rotated my wrists to let them pop. “It would be better with music, but I will do my best without.” 

I took in a deep breath to steel my nerves, taking off my jacket to reveal my toned form in their leggings and tank top. I started a routine I knew very well. I sat low and started with a Valdez. That immediately gathered the attention of every man in the tent. I kept a steady tempo in my head as I moved on with a few wide gestures into a pirouette. With each rotation, I saw the ocean of faces watching me. No doubt they had never seen a performance such as this. 

Carefully, I allowed myself to drop before coming back up in a nip-up. I followed the maneuver with a handspring, twirling my body out of it. Next came a series of smaller techniques, such as cartwheels and a display of my flexibility. I ended the display with rèvèrence, bowing to a wide-eyed Caesar on his throne. 

I looked from him to his two officers beside him, Lucius and the lanky one. Lucius looked thoroughly impressed, but the other man’s face was unreadable. It sent a chill down my spine. 

Caesar began to clap, “That was quite the display! What is your name, daughter?” 

“Cassia, sir,” I replied, breathing still heavy from the exertion. 

“A fine name,” he smiled at me, “Well. I do think I could find use for you.” 

“A slave?” I questioned. 

“Not a slave,” he waved his hand, “It would not do well for my image to have an enslaved daughter. I can’t let you be free either. Tell me, have you been deflowered?” 

“I-What?” I stammered, knowing his meaning. 

“Have you been with a man?” His voice was sharper. 

“I-” I looked away in embarrassment, “I have not.” 

He seemed pleased with that, “Then I will allow you to marry one of my officers. As a wife you will be given protection, food, and small freedoms. In return, you will bear his children to grow my Legion. Perhaps even produce an heir for me.” 

There was no room in his tone for argument, “I suppose that is the best I could have hoped for,” I bowed my head to him, “Do I get to choose this man myself?” 

“I will allow it,” he snapped his fingers and the stoic man slid to his side with ease, “Vulpes. Have a bed made for her here. I don’t want to risk damage to her.” 

“Yes my liege,” he lowered his head before moving toward me, “Come.” 

I followed without complaint, thankful that at least I would not be forced into slavery.


	2. Dinner

The room was...not what I was expecting. It was a section of tent that was cast up with four supporting poles to form four corners, and one in the center to keep the canvas up. There was a mattress on a real bed frame, a small table with two chairs, a footlocker, and a nightstand. In the farthest corner was a wash bucket. It was rather homey, all things considered. 

I got the impression my father wanted me to stay within the protection of his tent because he didn’t trust his regular men to not ‘spoil’ me. This was the first time in my life I was thankful to have been too focused on my future to bother with men. Now though, now I was to be married. To a man I didn’t even know. At least I got to pick my future husband, that’s more than a lot of women. 

“You will soaps and a cloths in the foot locker,” Vulpes’ collected voice said, “There will be food and clothing brought to you soon. I suggest cleaning up quickly. Caesar is sure to call on you before the night ends.” 

“Ah. Thank you- Vulpes, is it?” I asked. 

“Yes. I am Vulpes Inculta, leader of the frumentarii,” he turned to leave but stopped short of the tent flap, “I am also one of your possible suitors, seeing that I hold an officers rank.” 

“Really? Don’t suppose you want to tell me about yourself?” I questioned. 

“No,” with that he left. 

I sighed and started stripping down to wash. The soap wasn’t nice like the kind I was used to, but it wasn’t too stripping on my skin. There was much that needed cleaning since I hadn’t bathed in over a week. Not since mother died. 

I wonder what she would have thought to see me in this position. She seemed to trust that Caesar would offer me protection, but something in her eyes made me doubt. Maybe she knew what he would do. Maybe she knew that I would be subjected in such a way. Well, she always did want to see me married. Maybe this was her sick way to get that to happen. Who the hell knows. 

“Ma’am?” A soft voice called from the front of my tent. 

“Yes?” I asked. 

A young slave woman stepped in with a plate of food and an arm of clothing, “I brought these for you.” She set them down on the bed. 

“Thank you,” I replied. 

She looked at me like I kicked her, very stunned to say the least. I gather slaves don’t receive thanks here. Either way, she scurried out like she was scared. I looked over the clothes she brought while chewing on a loaf of bread. One outfit called to me. It was crimson red and had many drapes to it. 

I put it on, getting a little confused halfway through but making it work, and looked at the small bag that was left for me in the footlocker. Surprisingly, there was some makeup there. I took a bright red paint and put it on my lips. It had a slightly sweet berry flavor to it. Next I lined my eyes and eyelashes with some powdered charcoal. In truth, I’ve always felt better after a bath and freshly painted face. 

Finally I had to do something about my damp hair. I wouldn’t have enough time for it to dry before I was likely called upon, so I opted to do a braided updo. I made a crown braid with no stray hairs fallen. It was easier to do with wet hair than dry. There was a small looking glass for me to use, so I double checked myself before deciding I was ready. 

I didn’t have to wait too long as Vulpes appeared at my tent shortly after. He was out of that ridiculous dog hat and in a more relaxed uniform that was similar to what I had seen the recruits wear. If he thought anything of my appearance, he said nothing. I followed him to a long table where Caesar, his officers, and a few other men sat. My father offered me a warm smile and gestured to the chair beside him, not breaking his conversation with Lucius. 

As I looked around the table, I could see that I was quickly becoming the center of attention. I tried focusing on the food in front of me, anywhere but on those eyes. I only liked being watched when I performed, anytime else made my anxiety rise. On the verge of a near panic attack, Vulpes spoke very softly from beside me. 

“It is not wise to show weakness in the Legion,” he told me. 

I shook my head and rolled my shoulders to fix my posture. His advice for me was solid, there was no way I could let these men see my fear. I would be eaten alive. I chanced a glance up to the man, but he was casually eating the brahmin on his plate and not giving me his attention. 

“Cassia,” Lucius spoke directly to me, “Where did you learn those moves from before? It takes a lot of strength and dedication to do that.” 

“From books mostly,” I replied, “I’m self taught. Mother gave me anything she could find about dancing and music, from novels to magazine clippings. I dedicated almost all of my free time to it.” 

“Do you play any instruments?” He asked. 

I smirked a bit feeling prideful, “Yes. The violin. It was in my bag that was confiscated from me.” 

“We will have to see it returned,” he gave me a lusty smile as his eyes darted to my cleavage and back to my face, “I would very much like to hear you play.” 

“Of course,” I gave a small nod and quickly looked away. 

“Cassia,” my father gathered my attention, “Your mother, did she join the NCR?” 

“Ah,” I glanced at the hostile faces of the men at the mention of the NCR, “She did, but as a civilian. Just paid enough to keep us housed and fed.” 

“Did she never take a husband?” He questioned. 

“No. She said there was only ever one for her,” I replied. 

“Hm. Interesting,” he chewed a piece of root vegetable thoughtfully, “Here I thought she was going to whore herself around. Good to see she maintained some respect for herself.” 

My fist balled tightly at that comment and I felt like nothing would be better than to throw them in Caesar’s smug face. Vulpes’ hand touched mine lightly and I caught a frown. I wasn’t sure if he was comforting me or threatening me, but either way it worked. A deep breath cleared my brief anger. 

“Cassia, was it?” A man from in front of her asked. 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Any thoughts to who you’re going to marry?” He questioned. 

“I think it’s much too early to tell,” I replied honestly. Vulpes scared me and Lucius was too old. I hadn’t even met all the officers. 

“I’m no officer,” the man’s grin had too many teeth, “But I could bed you better than the spy and old man could.” 

Everyone but Vulpes and Lucius laughed at the crude comment. I frowned, forming my lips tight and willing my mind to let me have control of my mouth. 

“I could kill you for that,” Lucius threatened. 

“What? Over some whore?” The joker teased. 

I tensed, “No need to get worked up Lucius,” I thought to what my mother might say in this situation and settled on a quip, “I’m sure he’s all talk. Men who talk tend to only be good at that, talking. I doubt he would live up to my expectations.” 

“Hey now-” the man started. 

“Enough,” Caesar stopped him, “I see my daughter has her mother’s quick wit.” 

“I try,” I laughed softly. 

“Antony,” Caesar said to a different man who sported a mohawk and tire track, “How are the hounds?” 

“Good sir,” his voice immediately got on my nerves, “Lupa has given us another great litter. They will be ready for battle soon.” 

“Good,” Caesar returned to his meal. 

There were talks of the upcoming battle for Hoover Dam. Legate Lanius was set to come early for some preparations, but would need to return back east for some other reason before they would take the dam. This would give me a window to meet the man himself, who I overheard was a monster. 

Now some of the men had departed and Lucius walked toward me, “Cassia,” he held a hand out for me, “Come. Walk with me.” 

There was no room for argument in his command, so I took his hand and let him lift me from the table. 

“You may become my wife,” he started as they left the tent, “I need to know. Do you know how to fight?” 

“I-no,” I looked at the ground, “I never had to.” 

“We will fix that,” his tone was absolute, “If you are to provide me with sons, they will need to come from strong stock. I see from your dress now that you are well muscled for your...lithe form.” 

“Dancing is a sport really,” I replied. 

“What could you offer me beside your virginal womb?” He asked directly. 

Hearing the words made me feel like I was nothing more than a breeding bitch, “I’m not sure there is much beyond entertainment and companionship. What is it that you can offer me?” I turned the tables, it was my choice after all. 

“I can protect you and provide, what more would you wish?” He sounded insulted. 

“More than my base needs being met? Who is the real Lucius? Do you like to read? Any habits? What side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?” I listed questions. 

“As the head of the praetorian guard, I don’t have time for luxuries and hobbies like your dancing,” he replied. 

“Fair enough,” I wanted to get him back to an agreeable mood. 

He stopped are walk between tents were no one could see us, “Are you truly a virgin?” 

“Y-yes,” I stammered as he drew uncomfortably close, “Why would I lie about that?” 

His hand stroked my cheek, “You are very beautiful. I am surprised you haven’t sunk your teeth into many men like you proligates do.” 

“Thank you,” I forced a smile, “Why are you t-touching me like-ah!” 

His hand gripped my ass, “I want to see what you can do.” 

“N-no,” I pushed him off of me. 

“I like it when they have fight,” he grinned, “Makes them so much better to break.” 

Thankfully, he kept his hands off of me and led me back to my tent. 


End file.
